


'I'm hopelessly in love with him'

by SmallGrumpy



Series: Carry On [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Carry On is amazing, F/M, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, simon snow needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-04 17:43:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16351211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallGrumpy/pseuds/SmallGrumpy
Summary: Simon Snow is 16, and in his 8th Boys home, he lived with his parents till he was 4 but when his father had ‘mental lapse’ as the doctors called it and killed his mother, Simon was sent off to live in various boys homes across London. Some were better than others, but Simon knows that it doesn’t really matter because unless he lives on the streets (which occasionally he thought might be better) this is the only place for him. He's not sure if he wants to go but Watford Cove felt like home from the first day; it has nothing to do with the very attractive guy he saw brooding outside the principal's office, not at all.Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is 16 and the bane of his father's existence, since Baz came out to his father last year his dad has been more distant and strict than usual. “No, going out, no smoking, no tattoos, no failing, no parties, drinking, and absolutely no boys” the list could go on. When Baz gets sent to the office because he gets caught skipping class to smoke behind the school, he stops his brooding for a moment to ogle the most beautiful person ever. He’s determined to meet this copper-haired mystery boy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so this is a new Fandom but I love this book SO much and I read Fangirl so long ago. I really hope you like it! This is going to be a long one so strap in and prepare yourself for some tooth rotting fluff. Also i'll be writing other stuff as well as this so if this is not something you enjoy check out my other work.

Baz

This is ridiculous. Baz did not belong here, it wasn’t even technically his fault and yet, he’s the only one in trouble. When his mother was alive she was the principle of Watford and if she still was he wouldn’t be in the position he’s in now. What exactly is that you might ask, well, right now Baz was sat outside of the principles office for the third time that week, waiting to be called in. Baz had been caught out back smoking with the lads. He really did not understand the big issue, lots of teens smoke. Hell! He’s not even smoking the hard stuff, just normal cigarettes. 

His father however didn’t care either way, so when he found out Baz had started smoking, he threw a fit. Personally it only encouraged Baz further. His father was an issue in Baz’s opinion, he never was a loving kind of man, but after his mother died… no one in the family really was the same. Especially his father though, and last year during a very heated argument Baz had accidentally came out to him, it really only fueled the fire. His father had cracked the whip and set down hard rules, there was a long list. Not even a figurative list, like an actual list, it was hung up on the fridge. They ranged from ‘keep up your grades’ to ‘no boys in the house unless I know them.’ It really was ridiculous, at least his step mother was okay. She didn’t really care what Baz did, but she gave him money for lunch, feed him supper, and always left an extra sweater on the hanger for him on cold days. It was more than he could ever say for his father. 

Baz was a little eccentric which wasn’t really helping the relationship between himself and his father. His dad came from a rich family, maids, butlers, boarding school, the whole shebang. Baz didn’t really have a taste for that lifestyle. His closet was full of black jeans, mostly ripped, band tees, denim jackets, flannel, leather, hoards of sneakers, and his trusty pair of black Doc Martens. He had dress clothes, of course but he only wore them when they needed to see his father's side of the family. Baz had also inherited his mother's looks, pale, black hair that landed just under his ears and piercing green eyes. He was tall but not taller than his father, who stood at 6’3. If you looked into the Pitch home you would think that Baz was adopted because his young step sisters looked like carbon copies of his father and stepmother. His mother always said that the only thing he got from his father was his stubbornness. 

Back to present time, Baz was in trouble, yet again. His father was really going to rip him a new one tonight if Baz got another detention. He was seated on a very uncomfortable wooden bench sat in the hall outside of the office. Baz always thought they made the seats uncomfortable in school for a reason, just so you were more on edge than you already were. Baz sat back in the seat and pulled a loose string from his beetles shirt. He crossed his arms again and brought his face into a scowl so if anyone looked at him they would see a rebellious teenager. Was that really his aesthetic? he thought, what would his mother think of him now? Just before Baz could go down that wormhole of self deprecating thoughts, something caught his eye. 

He saw a flash of copper and right there walking in front of him, was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. A guy about his age, short, copper hair that was cut short on the sides and long on the top. He was wearing light wash jeans with rips on the knees and a black hoodie with roses on the elbows. He also had on a pair of ratty white vans. His skin was splattered in freckles all over, he had moles on his cheek and one one his neck. He was looking around nervously and they made eye contact for the briefest second before mystery boy quickly turned away. He kept walking but Baz could still see the tips of his ears going red.

Before Baz could get up and make a move, Their principle opened his office door, “Mr. Pitch, It’s good to see you… again. What is it, the third time this week?” 

Baz gave him a tight smile and got up to take a seat in his office. “I assure you sir, I did nothing wrong” Baz tried. 

It didn’t work, he got detention. But he couldn’t seem to make himself care. His mind was thinking of one thing and one thing only. Well not really a thing more of a someone.


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon's pov

Simon  
Walking into Watford was significantly less stressful than the first time he moved, back then he used to hide in the bathroom between classes to calm his nerves. Now that he was at his ninth school, he didn’t have to do that, well at least not everyday. When he was small his mum used to say that Simon was sensitive, really Simon just thinks he dislikes a lot of people and crowds make him anxious. School to say the least, was not his favorite place. Watford felt different right away, for one reason, it felt like home. Not home as in the boys home because those never felt like that, but home with his dad and mum. 

Simon hadn’t seen his mum since he was four, the last day she was alive, and when he was 10 social services had brought him to his father at the mental institution for christmas. It didn’t go well. As soon as his father saw him he got upset and then angry. The guards restrained him and Simon was escorted out. He hasn’t seen his father since then and to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to. 

Watford was an old brick castle that the government had converted into a secondary school, the walls were lined with off green lockers, there was a soccer field out back and a large gym inside. There was also a cafeteria that was filled with lunch table and had a wall of windows looking out into a small courtyard. Simon's favorite place in the school by far, was the large library. This wasn’t because Simon really enjoyed reading, it was because it was warm, smelled like old books, and had a cart with tea and biscuits for students to snack on. 

The second reason Simon liked Watford from the start was because of someone not the school itself. Today was his first day of school and he really did listen to the secretary when he asked where to get to his first class but when he got a little lost, instead of trying to remember where she had told him to go, he found a very good looking stranger. He was beautiful, he looked like trouble, but when they accidentally made eye contact the boy smirked, but his eyes looked kind. God, his eyes looked more than kind. They were a beautiful green and it felt like they looked straight into Simons soul. 

When he did find his way to first period, he was 20 minutes late, but it was art, and the teacher was kind. Simon loved art, it was something he could control, at one of his first schools, when he was still little, the teacher had pulled out easels and asked the kids to paint something happy. Simon knew he couldn’t paint people very well because when he thought of being happy he thought of his mum. So he just… painted. Splashes of pink, yellow, and blue, little dots of black scattered the canvas. When the teacher came to look, she stood there shocked. Apparently she hadn’t expected anyone to actually be good at painting, they were only six, but Simon was different. He had been through so much pain that his heart felt a hundred years older than it should. His teacher, whom he couldn’t remember the name of had called the boys home and begged them to put Simon into art classes. This was one of the better homes so they did and for six glorious months Simon attended an art class four days a week every week. He was thriving for the first time in two years. Then they transferred him, this home was an older one and too far away for him to attend the class.   
That was the last time that Simon could remember himself being happy for a long period of time, now the only art Simon got to do was sketches in his sketchbook and art class at school.

Now that Simon was settled into class he tried his best to pay attention but he was too distracted, he loved art but that boy… the picture of him sitting on that bench never left Simons mind. Not until the end of the day. All through school, even lunch that boy never left his thoughts. But when he got ‘home’ he stopped thinking all together because that's when the yelling started.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos AND comments are greatly appreciated <3


End file.
